


The Lion and the Fox

by Yheela



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yheela/pseuds/Yheela
Summary: A flash fiction of my character meeting Cullen for the first time.





	

The fighting grows louder, screams and blood curdling silence when they’re cut off.  
“Maker help us.” A grizzly looking soldier adjusts his harness before hurrying his steps towards the crumbling courtyard and the sounds of battle. Varric shakes his head and cranks the wrench on his enormous crossbow.  
“I’m not sure the Maker is listening to us right now…”

My chuckle is weak, but I don’t care. They’re all waiting for me to go forward into the fight, but I’m questioning my decision to do this. The Mark is burning my hand, hell, the pain is shooting burning stabs up through my arm. Clenching and unclenching my fist I deliberate, trying to buy myself some time when there is none to find. So I closed the first rifts we stumbled upon, what’s saying I’ll be able to handle the others we come across? What is this sorcery? I’m a rich brat turned pretend assassin from boredom, there’s not a drop of magical blood in me.

I catch the Elven mage Solas glancing at my hand, he knows things and I’m not sure I’m comforted by the fact or not. Grinding my teeth to not tell him to mind his own business I finger the dagger up my sleeve, the one Seeker Cassandra doesn’t know about. She was reluctant for me to carry any weapons and I can’t blame her, I wouldn’t want to arm me either. If I thought I’d get away with it I’d run in the opposite direction and never look back.  
“We should join the fight.” The Seeker’s dry voice grinds my gears, something about it makes me want to roll my eyes and stomp off. My big sister would just love her, rule abiding and utterly humorless.  
“Alright then.” I say more to myself than to my companions. “Bring on the demons…”

 

My mouth tastes of iron, I bit down on my lower lip to prevent from screaming as I closed the rift. Is this ever going to become easier?

With shaking hands I wipe my daggers on my scorched and torn tunic, it’s ruined now anyway. Sheathing them I draw a deep breath and try to get my heartbeat down. I try to remember Master Aylan’s lessons on finding the calm. Picturing an empty space in my head where all noise and feelings are reduced into nothing. It ripples as my utter disbelief in any of this invades my thoughts, shaking my head I try it again. And again. And again. Until a growl of frustration shatters the image and I just stand there for a while with my eyes closed.

Solas and Varric are talking, but I’m too tired to listen closely. I wish I knew what to say about all this. Demons and rifts in the fabric of reality. What is this really? A bad dream that I can’t seem to wake up from. How can they all seem so collected, co calm in front of this nightmare. Varric even jokes about these abominations washing over us like a flood of doom. Insane. They are all insane.

There’s a scrambling among the remaining soldiers, someone of rank must be walking this way. Are we going to be able to get out of here before they get here? My eyes scan the lines of soldiers circling us, but nothing less than rudely pushing past them seems to be an option.  
“Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift. Well done.”

Oh Maker. Is this my gift for suffering through all this? His blonde hair is matted against his forehead, but that does not take away the fact that he’s a very handsome man. The way he walks tells me he’s used to people moving out of his way. This must be the Commander Seeker Cassandra talked about, too bad he seems to ignore everyone but the Seeker.  
“Do not congratulate me, this is the prisoner’s doing.” As his eyes fall upon me I realize I must look an absolute mess. What an absurd thought to have in the middle of a battle field.

“Is it?” His eyes take me in and I feel myself standing up straight. “I hope they’re right about you, we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.” His voice carries the grief of losing soldiers. Glancing at the bodies strewn all over the ground makes my heart constrict, all these poor people, pitted against creatures they can’t defeat, only to give me time.  
“You’re not the only one hoping that.” What can I say?  
“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we.” And that’s it. He dismisses me with a partially raised eyebrow and I tune out the conversation between him and the Seeker. She’s bound to tell me everything again, so why bother listening.

He might not find me anything worth wasting his time on, but I’m soaking up everything about him. The way his shoulders are held back and how he keeps his back straight, even though I can tell he’s tired and how his face seems prefect for smiles but I would be surprised if they are very frequent. The surrounding soldiers are hanging on to his every word, as if they alone would give them the strength to keep fighting. Must be nice to have such an influence over others.

My body is asking for rest, but the wound in the sky tells me I won’t find any soon. It pulsates, grows and pain shoots up my arm.  
“Soddin’…” Solas raises his arm as if to steady me and even though I recognize the gesture as genuine concern I turn my back to him as I cradle my hand. I hate it. I hate it all. Why did it have to be me? I’m the worst choice of a hero, the Maker sure fucked up with this one.

“Are you…” Cassandra stops when I snap around. Everyone’s looking at me. I’m a brat, but I don’t care.  
“Let’s go. We need to finish this.” Andraste help me.


End file.
